


The Quiet Caring of an Indescribable Love

by TheBaronVonSteuben



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, I had a really fun time writing this little thing, I've been traveling all day and we JUST touched down, Sorry this is a few hours late, and it's written like kind of how it would be in the 18th century, but use the cast characters instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBaronVonSteuben/pseuds/TheBaronVonSteuben
Summary: Sometimes, when President Washington sees James Madison and Thomas Jefferson together, he is struck by how similar they are to his two most useful aides in the army: John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton.





	The Quiet Caring of an Indescribable Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [procrastinatingbookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/gifts).



> This was really fun to write! I tried to keep it as historically accurate as possible, but I don't exactly know what the day-to-day life of these guys were, so I made some of it up. It was way easier to imagine the Hamilton cast instead of the actual historical figures, and definitely allowed for a lot of character changes. Some little things: yes, Jefferson did have five copies of "De Rerum Natura", but I don't know if he copied them down by hand. Also, there's no way in hell most of the characters in this Drabble ever were in the same room together like this, but... whatever. Hope you enjoy!!

The packet of papers slammed against the desk without so much as a word of warning. Already the man who had so unceremoniously dropped it had his arms crossed over his chest in impatience. 

A raised eyebrow, the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, and then, “Is it through?” Washington's question was answered with a combination of a glare and a grin as Hamilton nodded his chin towards the papers.

“I haven't yet presented it to Muhlenberg, keep in mind,” Hamilton said, showing his teeth in an uncomfortable smile. “I need you to read it first and deem if it is oh so worthy to be seen by his eyes.”

Washington picked the packet up, mindful of the brass clip securing the papers together, and skimmed the top. “Report on Manufactures. You'd best give it soon. Congress has been waiting for this for two years. They're convening tomorrow; you're in luck.”

Hamilton shifted from one foot to the other, the light from the windows reflecting off his spectacles. “I'll present it to Muhlenberg after dinner, when we've all eaten. He'll be in a better mood, hopefully. And then--” Hamilton lifted his chin in a mock royalty sort of way-- “I shall avoid him until just before supper, and only then will we discuss.”

Washington held up a finger to silence him. “I'm afraid I don't have much time to read this, Alexander. Madison, I think, would be a much better proofreader than I. But so far, it appears as though everything's in order. Muhlenberg should receive it well.”

“You've only read the title.”

Washington leaned back in his chair. “Yes, that is true, but I also trust you immensely. You haven't failed me yet, and I believe you won't on this matter especially. You have been working on this for quite a long time.”

Hamilton’s shoulders fell, almost in defeat. “Yes, but I need someone to reassure me that the time I spent wasn't a waste.”

“Madison, then, can surely assist you.” Washington waved his fingers, urging Hamilton to leave so he might be able to finish his correspondence.

“Madison’s in the building, if that's who you're looking for,” came a voice from the hallway. Jefferson peered in through the doorway. “And, sir, you requested me as well?” 

Washington nodded, briefly looking at his notes before glancing back at the secretary. “I needed you to look these over and determine if the price is too high.”

Jefferson sighed, hands coming up to run themselves through his mess of hair. “Are we still dealing with Tripoli? I swear, we just need to fight them. Negotiations are going nowhere and cost us valuable time and energy that--”

Washington’s voice overtook his. “Yes, Thomas, we are still dealing with Tripoli, for (and I am reminding you for a hundredth time) we do not have a standing navy. We’ve barely started this nation, for God’s sake. We don’t have the power to be throwing wars around as though they’re nothing.” With a finger, he beckoned Jefferson over, passing him the ream of correspondence as he went. “However, I do encourage you to do with these as you see fit. Oh, and send Madison in here, if you would.”

“Actually, sir, I was coming to see you. The House is anxious to--oh. Good afternoon, Hamilton. I...was not aware you were here. Anywho, sir, the House is anxious for your response to the previous session--improvements, et cetera….” Madison, fitted in his usual blue suit, stepped into the office, eyes wide at the collection of men assembled before him. He met Jefferson’s gaze, almost asking him how this coincidence could have unfolded. It was rare for two of them to be in Federal Hall at one time, much less all four. 

“Well, Mr. Madison, I will write to Muhlenberg when I have the time. Meanwhile, I have a project here I'd like you to assist Secretary Hamilton with,” Washington said, standing and tapping his fingers against his desk. The afternoon sun reflected off its surface onto the wall, dappled and thin. 

Madison made a face, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “If this is about the debt plan, I want nothing to do with it. You already know my feelings about it. It won't work and has my strong opposition.”

Hamilton tried to glare at all three of the other men at once, folding his arms angrily across his chest, obviously attempting to wish himself out of the room. Washington gave a laugh, knowing all too well how his treasury secretary could be sometimes. “Well, Secretary Hamilton, there you have Madison’s opinion,” he chuckled. “I do hope you present it well. You are excused.” The words brought with them memories of wartime strategizing and writing letters back and forth to each other, and their effect was not lost on Alexander, whose eyes widened before narrowing again; he exited as crossly as humanly possible.

The president resumed his writing for a long while before he remembered Madison and Jefferson, who were still standing in front of his desk in the painted sunlight, both clueless as to what they should do next. The light pouring in from the rippled-glass window seemed to drench them--they appeared almost weighed down with it. And, at this moment, Washington saw how similar to each other they were. Physically they were polar opposites: Jefferson standing at least half a foot taller than Madison, his hair frizzy and never bothered enough by it that he pulled it back, whereas madison’s dark hair was always trimmed neat and short. But, they both appeared to sympathize with each other on a separate scale...almost like his two previous war aides. 

“You, as well, are dismissed,” Washington said with a small smile, intended to ask why the two would ever think they needed to stay. 

Madison and Jefferson looked at each other for a second--and, God, was it familiar to Washington--and both swiftly turned with a laugh and left Washington alone. 

The uncertainty--the unwillingness to disappoint their commander--all of it was so similar to Hamilton and Laurens, and when the comparison hit him he smiled to himself, immensely satisfied. There was so much more. Hamilton, by nature, was loud and brash and blunt, a veritable Jefferson, whereas Laurens was...Laurens had been...quiet, reserved, and deeply passionate...Madison?

But there was more, too. It was as if whatever gods existed were driven on bringing this parallel to a close. Just...the way the light refracted off of Madison’s silk suit was the same as the sunlight bursting from Laurens’ coat buttons, blinding and shimmering against the wall of the tent…. the way Jefferson would stop at nothing to see his ideas to fruition was the same as Hamilton arguing over a map, gazing almost lustfully at strategies Lafayette had drawn out the day before. 

But not only their mannerisms…not only the way they thought and talked. The lengthy glances--before they left the Potts’ house at Valley Forge, Hamilton’s eyes had caught Laurens’ and held them captive, like pirates….of Tripoli. Washington desperately needed to speak with Thomas more about that. Piracy, if left unchecked, could take many more victims than it already had. And suddenly a memory: Alexander, running a hand through his dark hair in the candlelight, desperately copying down Cicero as fast as his hand would let him. A whole different meaning to piracy; Jefferson boasting to Washington: “I have in my collection five copies of De Rerum Natura. Five. Two I copied by hand.” What for? The thrill of writing, of collaborating with the ancient philosophers, the president reckoned. His pen began to tap rhythmically against the desk.

There was more...an unidentifiable connection. The quiet caring of an indescribable love. Jefferson, loud and obnoxious, was quieted, calmed, even, simply by James being in the same room. It had been the same with Alexander and John. They had grounded each other, become each other’s figurative lightning rod… Hamilton had barely responded to his death. A few words for the man who couldn't stop talking. The lightning hit the house, burnt it to the ground….Leaving Hamilton nothing but ashes, angry and dissatisfied with the world...and, Washington supposed, the Democratic-Republicans.

He shuffled the papers on his desk, ultimately resigned not to get any work done that day, turning his head to look out the windows. He watched the light pour in like honey, and watched how the leaves blocked it only partway, and watched the dark and light spots on the wall dance with each other, waiting for the other to fall and rise up.


End file.
